To Die Like A Hero
by Dumb Dumb Face Butt
Summary: Very old and not very good. Oneshot based on a live-action inner monologue of a surprise character upon seeing Harry "dead" during the final battle.


**A/N: Soo. I got this idea randomly and decided to make a oneshot out of it. :D Yaaay.**

**HUGE HUGE HUGE**

**SPOILERS**

**FOR HARRY POTTER 7, RIGHT AT THE ENDING :O**

**Anyways, this is SOMEONE'S thoughts (figure it out yourselves, it's not too difficult :)) during the final battle at Hogwarts. It's after Voldy announces that Harry died a coward, running from death (I was very upset by that). It has a weird time sequence though. **

**DSCLMR: If I owned HP, I wouldn't be making shit oneshots in the middle of the night. I'd be out flashing the Queen of England or whatever rich people do.**

He's dead.

He had shone like a beacon of hope for me since we were eleven, since first year. He was living proof that nothing is impossible, and that there is still good in the world, and evil will always be defeated, and he is dead.

At Voldemort's feet, he lies. Motionless. I think I see a tick in a chest, a twitch, but I know it's wishful thinking.

His glasses are falling off. Why doesn't he push them back?

Oh. Yeah.

I feel a sudden wetness on my face, and I reach up to touch my cheeks, expecting blood. Instead, I find tears.

Because the boy who lived is dead at last.

Harry. Lightning scar. Proof that the killing curse doesn't always work. Voldemort. Green skin. Red eyes.

My chest is constricting, and my brain jumps wildly. He's faking. He's going to leap up any second now and he's going to blast Voldemort aside, and there will be feasting and laughing, and the world will be rid of evil.

But that doesn't happen. Because he's not moving.

I have no energy. I couldn't possibly lift a finger, I could never brush my hair out of my face… And yet… I have a charge, a desire. Not to live or to love. The only spark I have is to kill. To rip Voldemort, Bellatrix, every other Death Eater to pieces. I was zapped of all fight, but I could have beat the holy living hell out of anyone who threatened Harry's life.

Harry. My brother, my friend, my companion. My incandescent beacon of light in a dark world full of hate and trickery and panic and passion.

I look over at Ginny, desperate to tear my eyes away from his corpse, to see someone else's grief, because no one could possibly be feeling worse than I am right now. Every nanosecond is a thousand years, and I feel aged like I never have.

Ginny is crying. She looks like she would give anything to trade places. To be the one lying at His feet. To be the one who must have died a glorious death, because we all know he would never back down. In hyper focus, I can see every second of our relationship, every time I've ever wronged him, every time I wasn't certain if he'd live. Every good morning and every goodnight. Every second in the Great Hall, or the common room, or the library, or anywhere. It is burning a hole in my chest, dissolving my gut, to realize that I will never be able to do that again. Anything. Never be able to make fun of his hair or watch him play Quidditch ever again. It's over.

All those thoughts race through my skull, but it's only been 30 seconds. Now, everything is happening in light speed: I'm making up for the lag of time, the heartbeat that lasted a century.

Neville yells "DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY!" and we all scream our assent. He beheads Nagini, and we roar in pleasure. I would like nothing more than to see Him suffer. Neville is under the Cruciatus Curse, but he bears it, for Harry.

Now we're fighting. I have no time to mourn over my lost brother. I want them all to suffer. Through our grief, the students and teachers and other residents of Hogwarts are bonding together. It is this intense grieving that brings us together, to fight for The Boy Who Never Really Got To Live.

Always for Harry.

To my left. It's Bellatrix Lestrange. I blast her with a stupefying curse, but I want so much more. I could perform the Cruciatus Curse. I could, and I could enjoy every minute of it. Every scream of pain from her would have been a breath of life to me, because I can't breathe, my chest is tightening, Harry is dead.

Harry wouldn't have wanted that to happen to me, but dammit he's dead and he doesn't get a say any more, the arsehole.

I am momentarily distracted by Molly taking out Bellatrix. "Not my daughter, you bitch" indeed.

Where's Harry? Dead. He should be fighting with us. It should be him, taking on all odds. He could do it. We would rally around him, one huge entity forming the strongest bond because it's made of love.

A protection charm is formed in between the fights, just after Molly kills Bellatrix.

Oh, how I love Molly.

Who's casting the Protego?

The invisibility cloak whips back, and it's him. He's protecting them.

I rub my eyes.

Dammit, STOP IT.

YOU'RE SEEING THINGS.

I want to see him so badly that I AM, and he's not actually there.

Hallucinations.

I'm going crazy.

But… What's going on?

Everyone else sees him. Everyone else is screaming that he's alive.

Not possible.

My heart surges. He was faking. It wasn't wishful thinking. I actually laugh. He's alive.

OF COURSE HE'S ALIVE.

Who else can come back from certain death twice before the age of legal Muggle adulthood? Only Harry.

I can say good morning to him again. We can eat breakfast. I can tell him about his job opportunities. I can lecture him about Hogwarts: A History again, and force elf rights down his throat. I can tell him he isn't responsible for all the death around him.

But what about Voldemort?

I hear "Avada Kedavra" but I'm not even worried. He's back, he's back, he's back, and he can do anything.

And anything is exactly what he does.

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Really? His signature curse? That's amazing and I love him for it. A flash of light. It's over. He's dead. Voldemort is dead. Harry's killed Voldemort.

Screaming. Laughing. Professor McGonagall is crying. Actually, I think she's been crying this entire time.

Everything is right.

He runs up to Ginny. Kisses her.

Runs up to Ron. Hugs him.

Runs up to me. I squeeze the life out of him, and he says "Mione."

I punch him on the shoulder "YOU WORRIED ME!"

He looks back sheepishly. "Sorry."

I'm hugging him. And everything is going to be okay.

My name is Hermione Granger.

And today would have been the worst day of my life, if not for the boy with the lightning scar.

**:O ! LONG!**

**This was a little pointless, but eh. ****Whatchu think?**

**Love?**

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**Grammar Errors (hate those)?**

**Break the review button like it has your money, the bastard. **


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